<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Hunter and the Hunted by Anduril_Narsil549</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25623346">The Hunter and the Hunted</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anduril_Narsil549/pseuds/Anduril_Narsil549'>Anduril_Narsil549</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chemistry, Gen, The Lazarus Pit causes issues of a different sort, how do i even tag, jason did not sign up for this, nonconsentual medical practices</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:19:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,930</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25623346</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anduril_Narsil549/pseuds/Anduril_Narsil549</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As random violence takes a sharp upturn in Gotham, Melanie Parnell finds herself accidentally involved with both the Wayne family and their nightlife. The Batfam confronts the crime issue only to find there is a bigger scheme at play, and Jason seems to be at the center of it in a deadly way. Racing against an unseen timetable, they hunt for the answers that would save both Jason and many others, only to find that they have become the hunted.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd &amp; Damian Wayne, Jason Todd &amp; Dick Grayson, Jason Todd &amp; Everyone, Jason Todd &amp; Original Character(s), Jason Todd &amp; Tim Drake, Tim Drake &amp; Damian Wayne, Tim Drake &amp; Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Three Years Ago, November 12th</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So...this is totally going to be a project that falls under the "bit off more than I can chew" category, but I've never liked to back away from a challenge so...here goes XD I hope you all enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dim.</p><p>Metallic.</p><p>Scraping.</p><p>Rancid.</p><p>Pain.</p><p>Spitting blood from her mouth, the woman sucked in a shaky breath of Gotham's back-alley air, the night barely broken by the flickering street lamps above. The sound of a loose shutter grating against itself in the wind didn't reached her ears. The pounding of her heart muted it.</p><p>But the sound of boots crunching gravel drowned it mercilessly. </p><p>"All of it," the man ground out. His voice sounded like a dying motorcycle engine.</p><p>The woman scooted back, her leg in front of her, throbbing and useless. Casting about, she grabbed for a pipe.</p><p>Stars exploding in her vision downed her fully to the pavement with a cry.</p><p>"All of it," the man growled again.</p><p>"That...is..."</p><p>A yelp of alarm escaped the woman as the man grabbed her arm, hauling her upright. </p><p>"It ain't," he said softly, the rotting smell of his breath stinging the woman's nostrils. "Yer a student, and that means you have <em>some</em> money. 'and it over."</p><p>"That's all," the woman whimpered, pointing to a discarded bag behind the man. "Just the laptop."</p><p>"It--" The man broke of with a howl as the woman decked him in the nose. Releasing her, he clutched his bleeding face.</p><p>Dropping, she rolled for the pipe, snatching it and facing the man again, once more sitting on the ground. Clutching it tightly, she held it before her like a sword.</p><p>"You little cur," he snarled, stalking closer. "The gall you have. Give me all of it, and I'll leave you be."</p><p>"That is," the woman asserted again, the man getting into her face. "Believe me--"</p><p>Metal against bone, then a yell and a blinding flash of pain.</p><p>Gasping, the woman's hand clutched at her torso. Warmth welled up between her fingers. Chest constricting, she fell back onto the pavement. The pipe rolled away, clanging against the hardtop. </p><p>The man knelt next to her, knife hovering above her shoulder, darkened with her blood. </p><p>The woman's eyes shifted between focus and blurred, the edges of her vision fuzzy.</p><p>"Please," she breathed through the wave of pain. "Please, don't..."</p><p>The crack of a gun had the woman ducking her head, even on the ground as she was. A howl and scream made her raise it again.</p><p>"I don't appreciate a thug like you threatening a woman," a voice said from the right. Boots crunched on gravel again, and the man's face turned toward it as he cradled his bloodied arm.</p><p>Both woman and man blanched.</p><p>"I don't suppose you have a good reason for this," the newcomer stated, placing himself between the man and woman, gun raised and trained on the mugger.</p><p>Gasping for breath, the man shuffled backward, tripping over himself in his haste. "No, I don't want...please, I..." Stumbling again, he turned and sprinted down the alley.</p><p>Holstering the gun, the newcomer turned to the woman. She looked up.</p><p>Straight into the helmet of the Red Hood.</p><p>"Let me see that," he said softly, reaching a hand toward her torso. Wide-eyed, she stared at him, unmoving. He took her hand gently, pulling it back off the wound. Though he probed it gently, she still sucked in pained breaths. </p><p>"Fricking gloves," he muttered before pulling them off. Her eyes flicked to his fingers, where a long scar reached over the back of them all.</p><p>"I'm going to pack this. I have an ambulance on the way." Blinking, the woman's eyes focused on the Red Hood. It took a moment for her to process the words.</p><p>The man made to move away from her, but she grabbed at his sleeve before she realized what she was doing.</p><p>He paused, looking at her hand on his arm. She removed it quickly, swallowing hard.</p><p>"It's ok," he said softly. "I'm not leaving. I'm going to take a look at your leg, ok?"</p><p>After a moment, she nodded, and he moved to take her leg, and again gently probed it. He pulled out more medical gauze and tape.</p><p>"You have several lacerations, but it looks like it all should heal ok. You also have a break." He stared at her for a moment. "Quiet, aren't you? What's your name?"</p><p>"N...Nora," she breathed.</p><p>"Nora, I need you to stay awake, alright? Your head needs to get checked and you can't sleep until then. Either you talk or I will." He fell silent for a moment, then added, "I suspect you would prefer me?"</p><p>She nodded, setting her head back against the brick she was leaned against. And she listened to a meandering one-sided conversation by the Red Hood until the paramedics arrived.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Student Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Freaking pharm," Melanie muttered, head in hands as she stared at the pages in front of her. Pinching her eyes shut, she still saw the words swimming behind her eyelids.</p><p>"C'mon, Parnell, you can do this." Reaching for her coffee, she wondered at her life choices.</p><p>It was two a.m. on a Monday. She sat in her favorite coffee shop, sipping on her favorite form of caffeine. Her two best friends from college had just left to try and catch some sleep before their exam in the morning, and she had only a short walk back to the apartment she shared with them.</p><p>None of this she wondered at, except for the fact that so much had gone so well.</p><p>No, what she wondered at was how she had managed to do three years of her undergraduate schooling in Gotham and why she even bothered staying in this trash city. It made her question her sanity.</p><p>Taking another sip of caffeinated beverage, she mentally shrugged at herself. Her sanity could wait a day to be questioned and evaluated. Unlike her exam, which would most certainly not wait.</p><p>A heavy sigh escaped her as she rubbed her forehead and started reciting pharmacology terms under her breath. Pausing for a moment, she calculated her grade in her head. The exam was worth twenty percent of her grade so...she could realistically get a D on it, and ace the final, and she would still have a high B in the class.</p><p>That should have made her feel better. Instead, she still felt like she should do whatever it took to get the 98 percent she knew she was capable of.</p><p>The scrape of a chair from a table to her left made her glance up sharply. A young man, about the same age as herself, had stood, and was packing up a book bag with a slick looking laptop and a couple of file folders. Melanie winced internally. She should be more considerate, even though they were the only two left in the shop.</p><p>"I'm so sorry," Mel said, catching the man's attention. He looked toward her, eyes flicking over her quickly. "I didn't mean to disturb you."</p><p>Relief filled her as he gave her a tired smile, one that underscored the deep bags under his eyes. "You didn't." She looked him over, red hoodie, dark hair that could use a trim, about as tall as her, and an air that told her he didn't regularly get much sleep.</p><p>"Well, have a good evening," she said, turning back to the sheet.</p><p>"Nursing student?" he asked, drawing her attention back to him.</p><p>"No," she responded. "Chemistry. Are you a student?"</p><p>"Nah," he said with a small wave of his hand. "No time to be a student."</p><p>"Uh huh." She wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Well, I have an exam soon, so I'm currently very envious of you."</p><p>"In?" he asked, walking to her table and glancing at her sheet.</p><p>"Principles of Applied Chemistry. Specifically, pharmacology," she answered, wary. Because, while this was a nicer coffee shop in Gotham, it was still Gotham. A guy showing interest in her at two a.m. in this city always made her nervous.</p><p>"I could help you," he said. She looked up sharply at him. "If you wanted," he added quickly. "I mean, if you study better alone, that's totally fine. I...you know what, I'll just leave." Slinging the book bag over his shoulder, he stopped at Melanie's chuckle.</p><p>"No, that's fine. I could use some help," she said. "I was just surprised. You're not a student, but know enough to help me with pharmacology? That's got to be a story."</p><p>The man hesitated, but gave her another smile. "Yeah, it is. The long and the short of it is that it kind of is a family interest."</p><p>Melanie raised an eyebrow. "'Family interest'? Now I really need the story."</p><p>The man returned a small frown at her, but it seemed of a teasing nature. "I thought you had a test you need to study for."</p><p>"Yeah, I do. You had better sit down. You look tired enough to fall over at any moment." She watched him arrange himself in the seat, then inhaled sharply.</p><p>"I'm such a jerk, you literally look so tired. You should go home and sleep, not help me cram for an exam."</p><p>"I basically don't sleep anyway, and this would be a nice change of pace from my normal beat," he replied easily. "Now, let's see that sheet."</p><p>She hesitated only briefly before handing it over to him. His eyes skimmed over it quickly.</p><p>"you have a couple mistakes on here," he said, leaning over the table and pointing to a couple different spots. "The interactions and side effects for these are wrong."</p><p>Looking at the spots, Melanie could have facepalmed. He was totally right. She knew the information, but had written it down wrong. Acetaminophen and ibuprofen were definitely different classes of drugs, but she had them as the same.</p><p>The mistake did nothing for her confidence in doing well on the exam.</p><p>"Thanks," she said, making the corrections. "Anything else I have wrong on here?"</p><p>They went back and forth, him quizzing her and giving advice on how to remember the different medicines, their side effects, uses, how they interacted, and anything else that was pertinent to know. Each of them ordered another coffee at some point, and each quickly downed it.</p><p>The morning was still dark when Melanie rubbed her eyes and glanced at her watch. Staring at it dumbly, she said, "Is it really 5:30?"</p><p>Frowning at her, her companion glanced at his own watch. "I suppose so." Standing, he said, "I need to go, I have a meeting in half an hour."</p><p>"A meeting? At six in the morning?"</p><p>He nodded. "And, if I'm not wrong, you have that exam in two and a half hours."</p><p>Melanie stared at him. "How do you know that?"</p><p>"You mentioned it earlier," he said with a shrug.</p><p>Thinking back over the last few hours, she couldn't recall whether she had or not, but believed that she very well might have. She began packing her bag up. "Yep, and I need some breakfast." She paused, glancing at him. "Can I get you anything? As a thank you? Because that was really helpful. And you just pulled an all-nighter before you had a meeting." She winced. "Which makes me feel like a total jerk again. You really should have gone and got some sleep."</p><p>He shrugged and glanced at the counter. "Whatever. Sleep is overrated." He paused, considering the menu. "Maybe an espresso, if you don't mind. I used the last of my cash on the last cup I ordered."</p><p>Melanie stared at him. "Um...this is just the health nut in me, but should you really drink more coffee? The last thing you ordered was a triple shot of espresso."</p><p>Sighing, he said, "No, probably not. But it's either that or sleep during the meeting, which wouldn't go over well." The corner of his mouth twitched, as though he were enjoying some private joke. "Though I would love to do that to this man," he said quietly. Shaking himself a bit, he said, "So, coffee it is. If it makes you feel better, I'll down a lot of water with it."</p><p>Ignoring his muttered comment, she replied, "Uh, you do you, just take care of yourself." Walking to the counter, she ordered his drink and some food for herself.</p><p>"Thanks again for the help," she said as the barista handed the man the cup. "And, I feel terrible again, I totally used you and don't even know your name."</p><p>A brief flicker of surprise flashed across his face, but he held out his hand to her. "Tim," he said.</p><p>"Nice to meet you, Tim. I'm Mel." She took his hand and shook it.</p><p>"See you around then," she called as she went for the door. "And thanks!"</p><p>He waved as he took a sip of coffee, then turned for the other exit.</p><p>She didn't watch him leave. She had a mission.</p><p>Eat some food. Not flunk an exam. Then sleep like the dead.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Uptick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mel loved Tory, but, sometimes, she was a bit much.</p><p>"Are you kidding? You met a cute boy at the coffee shop, who isn't a creeper, and you <em>haven't told me?</em>"</p><p>Like right now. They sat at their beat-up kitchen table, Tory having just got back from work, and Mel winding down from classes. It was one of the first times they had run into each other during the week. Even though they lived together, their schedules often kept them from frequently being in the same room except for the brief times one was walking in the door as the other walked out.</p><p>Mel had a cup of tea, her hands wrapped around it. She hoped that Tory would lose interest in the conversation quickly, but that was unlikely.</p><p>Leaning close, Tory grinned at Mel and dropped her voice. Mel leaned back a bit, taking her mug in hand and sipping from it. As much as she wished it to be a barrier between her and her friend's overt interest, it failed miserably.</p><p>"Mel, do tell. You <em>always </em>are on that computer of yours, doing who knows what--"</p><p>"Classwork, Tory. You know that."</p><p>"Whatever. Always on your computer, I had no hope that you would actually meet someone." Her friend's dark eyes glinted conspiratorially. "And you actually have. Now, spill the tea."</p><p>Mel sighed, considering literally dumping her cup of tea on the table. Considering that she'd have to clean it up, she decided against it. Instead, she huffed out, "First, Tory, I have no trouble meeting people. I don't date because I'm not interested. And second, this guy...I wouldn't say he's all that interested either."</p><p>"Oh, come on. You're reasonably attractive, rather smart, have a good personality, and have a lot of interesting random parts of your life. What's the hold up on dating?"</p><p>Mel wrinkled her nose. "Tory, I am queen, <em>queen</em> you hear, of RBF. Guys don't like that. Plus guys are intimidated by a girl who can crush them in an argument, and are insecure enough to not want someone who is essentially a walking encyclopedia. Forget how attractive I am or what my personality is like. And, just because my <em>family</em> is interesting does <em>not</em> mean I want to flaunt that to anyone and everyone. Besides, like I said, <em>I'm not interested</em>." Mel thunked her mug onto the table, hoping Tory would take the unspoken indication that the conversation was done.</p><p>Instead her friend frowned, leaning back and rapping her fingers quickly on the table. "Ok, fine. But, seriously, your brother being a champion in an illegal cage fighting circuit is pretty interesting. Anyway, this guys seems interested enough. He came over and talked to you of his own accord, right?"</p><p>"Tory," Mel replied with a heavy sigh. "Leave my brother out of this. That's one part of my life that I <em>really </em>don't want flaunted, not least because I was drug into it." She paused, thinking over how she'd learned to play nurse a little too well because of her brother's antics. Shaking her head, she added, "And, I don't think Tim's interested. Yes he engaged with me, no that doesn't equate to being interested. Even though he clearly has a brain bigger than mine and <em>probably</em> wouldn't be intimidated by me, I really don't think he's in the market right now."</p><p>Her friend gave her a smirk. "Ok, well, that can always change. Tell me about him anyway."</p><p>Mel refrained from sighing again. "About my height, dark hair that needs a trim, usually has a red hoodie, apparently too busy for school, and doesn't like to talk about his personal life." Taking a swig from her cup, Mel rolled the question over in her head. "In fact, he's awfully uncomfortable whenever I ask him about it. Almost evasive, even."</p><p>"Oh, the dark and mysterious type, then?" Melanie nearly spat her tea out at the description. Considering Tim's constant tired state of existence, dark and mysterious hardly seemed fitting. </p><p>Rolling her eyes, Mel said, "Tory, we're done. Changing topics now."</p><p>"Aw, Mel, this just got good!" Tory leaned forward again. "We just got to the juicy stuff!"</p><p>"Done," Mel said firmly, taking a drink of tea before making a distinct conversation change. "Do you think the university will shut classes down until this craziness is over?" Just this morning a notice from university police had notified everyone to stay alert and exercise extra vigilance due to an increase in violence near the university. Shortly after, she'd read an article stating that the violence had only increased around the university, not on it, and had nearly doubled just in the past week. </p><p>Tory huffed. "Really, you've lived in Gotham for three years and haven't figured it out? Nothing in Gotham closes for anything."</p><p>"Look, just because I was raised in a <em>normal</em> city doesn't mean I can't hold out hope that Gotham might actually act sane once in a while." Though Mel had to admit that she wasn't expecting a different answer than the one she'd received.</p><p>"Remind me why you came to a city you think is insane, <em>and </em>have stayed for so long?" Tory asked.</p><p>"Because school here is cheap compared to anywhere else."</p><p>Tory shook her head. "Wonderful life choice. Leave your posh mid-West city for Gotham. Whatever, I won't question your sanity. Just don't go out alone and you'll be fine." Tory grinned mischievously and added, "Maybe Tim would be happy to help. And you might even find out a bit more about him."</p><p>Melanie rolled her eyes. "C'mon Tory, just drop it." Though her friend did have a point. A semi-crisis could reveal a lot about someone. And Mel was curious about him.</p><p>She resolved to find out more about him the next few times she saw him. His background would undoubtedly provide some interesting talks.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Terminal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harris Thatcher was a brute of a man. His father said so, his mother said so, his uncles and brothers and sisters and cousins all said so. All the thugs on the street said so, all the cops who had ever arrested him said so. Everyone knew to either stay out of his way or have enough force to make being in his way a plausible feat. </p><p>Harris Thatcher wasn't a man who easily moved. Nor, for that matter, was he one easily intimidated.</p><p>But there were firsts for everything.</p><p>And the man behind this ragged door was the first man who Harris could neither intimidate nor keep himself from being intimidated by. Though slender, almost a full head shorter than him, and stiff in movement, the man's eyes were almost...snake-like. They could hold a man against his will, pin him and keep him there. And the man's voice...it could be considered smooth except for the slight hoarseness that seemed like an undercurrent in it. His words, too, were filled with something that stopped just short of being malice, but far from being anything friendly.</p><p>The man behind this door left Harris far too unsettled every time he met with him. But he paid well, and, to Harris, that was worth the eyes and his voice.</p><p>Breathing deeply, the brutish man hooked his thumb in his pocket. It left his palm positioned just right to grab the pocket knife that was there.</p><p>Pushing the door opened, he entered. And there, sitting at the painfully empty desk in a worn out old office chair, was Justin Ellis.</p><p>The man's eyes flicked to Harris, then away to the wall again. That was the most invitation to enter further Harris ever received.</p><p>Walking in, Harris' hand stiffened around the knife.</p><p>"You asked for me. Here I am," Harris grunted, stopping in front of the desk, still a good bit back. Because, while Ellis looked to be a man, his eyes still said otherwise. And Harris knew it was smart to keep some distance from a snake.</p><p>"Why are you hitting around the school?" The man's eyes stayed on the wall.</p><p>Harris frowned. "I'm not."</p><p>"Don't," the man's hand slammed the table, and his eyes whipped to Harris', locking on there. "Play with me. The last one I picked up was from by the school."</p><p>Hand tightening on the knife, Harris left it where it was for the moment. "I--I didn't--"</p><p>"Didn't what? Were your orders unclear?" The man stood, taking a slow step, then another, stalking out from behind the desk. Harris' eyes remained fixed on Ellis', unable to look away. "Or did I stutter?"</p><p>"The men, you must understand," the brute stammered, taking a step back as the man continued his steady course. His hand on the blade shook, unable to bring it forth. "They often expand on the hit zones. If we didn't hit within several more blocks--"</p><p>"Mister Thatcher." Harris swallowed audibly, taking another step back, and another, until his back hit the wall. Ellis stopped with his face a hairsbreadth away, his breath smelling faintly of wintergreen. Silence extended, broken only by Harris' shaky breathing</p><p>"You will not hit anywhere other than the targets I have assigned." The man's eyes flicked back and forth, taking in details as readily as a cloth soaked up water. "Is that understood?"</p><p>"Y-y-yes, understood."</p><p>"Good." The man walked back around the desk, and the brute took a heavy, steadying breath. His hand tightened on the blade repeatedly, clenching and unclenching. "Go take care of it."</p><p>"Of course, right away, only the targets you've assigned," Harris babbled, backing out of the room. "Right away."</p><p>The man simply turned his gaze back to the brute and Harris took hasty leave. </p><p>He missed the more human side of Justin Ellis.</p><p>Sighing, Ellis shook his head and took a heavy seat in the worn out chair. Taking a pen in hand, he tapped a sequence on the table, getting lost in thought. The paper before him consumed his attention. His finger traced over a single word.</p><p>
  <em>Terminal.</em>
</p><p>His eyes flicked down the page.</p><p>
  <em>Ten months.</em>
</p><p>"Mister Thatcher," the man muttered. "For each of our sakes, I hope you can deliver on your promise quickly."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. At Least I Get Coffee Out of This</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As it turned out, Mel spent nearly a month seeing Tim at the coffee shop before she learned much of anything about him beyond the fact that he had a weird amount of knowledge about random things for oddly mundane reasons (seriously, who knew about the anti-microbial properties of rosemary because they happened to be friends with a greenhouse owner?). And, as Mel had come to expect of Tim, he had managed to get more information from her than she had intended for him to get. Including her love of weird chemistry facts, some about her friends, her distaste for small talk, and, unfortunately, that her older brother was a cage fighter and she had acquired far too much first aid knowledge because of it.</p><p>If things had stayed there, life probably wouldn't have become unnecessarily interesting. But, when Mel did finally learn about Tim's life, it was a full reveal.</p><p>It was Friday night, and, to treat herself after a crazy week of school, Melanie didn't have anything planned besides eating half a quart of cookie dough ice cream and going to bed after marathoning Pirates of the Caribbean. It was a tradition of sorts at this point, and she wasn't going to break it in her second to last semester of college regardless of how bad it was for her health.</p><p>Settling back, she immersed herself in the quirky movies, her sweet desert, and the rare bit of solitude she had with both of her roommates away for the weekend. For about twenty minutes. Then a weird noise distracted her.</p><p>Melanie sat her bowl of ice cream aside, head cocked to the side. Even through the sound of the catchy music playing, she could just make out an altogether strange sound.</p><p>It sounded like her window was being opened. But that couldn't be.</p><p>She was seven stories up.</p><p>Placing her feet carefully, she softly moved to the closet. Picking out an umbrella, she just as carefully made her way to her living room, pausing in the hall to take a steadying breath.</p><p>She whipped the umbrella up and sprung into the room just as a heavy thump filled the space.</p><p>The sight that greeted her froze her feet.</p><p>A red lump, with a mess of dark hair, was crumpled on her floor below the window. The sound of gasping filled her ears, quickly accompanied by a moan.</p><p>Taking three strides forward, she put the point of the umbrella on the man's chest.</p><p>"What," she asked fiercely, "are you doing in my apartment?"</p><p>The man turned his face, lined with sweat, toward her. Breath catching in her throat, she couldn't help but stumble back.</p><p>The face had a mask on.</p><p>It took all she had to not flee out the front door.</p><p>The man gasped again, and she looked him over. A hand pressed to his side, and he still hadn't managed to gain his feet.</p><p>Her brain was about to put together what it all meant when the man finally got out a word.</p><p>"Melanie."</p><p>"How do you know my name?" she spat, umbrella trembling.</p><p>"Look, I need--" A sharp inhale cut off what he was saying, and his eyes pinched shut as a wave of pain crossed his masked face. "I need your help," he finally managed.</p><p>"You fall into my house and expect me to help you? I'm calling the cops." Turning, his voice stopped her again.</p><p>"No, Melanie, I'm not going to hurt you." With a grunt, he sat up higher against the wall. "Look," he said, raising a bloodied hand to his face. Fingering the mask, he managed to strip it off.</p><p>Mel stared. Dropping the umbrella, her butt hit the floor at almost the same time it did.</p><p>"What the...Tim?" Shaking herself, she moved closer to him, studying his pain-creased face, the dark hair that stuck with sweat to his forehead, and, finally, his side where his hands were pressed.</p><p>"What happened?" she asked, then, "I'm calling an ambulance."</p><p>"No." His hand grabbing her wrist halted her. Despite his condition, his grip was surprisingly strong.</p><p>"You can't," he grit out. "That...will cause a lot of trouble."</p><p>"Are you threatening me?" Mel asked, voice hard. Because, despite how they had become friends the past few weeks, everything she thought she knew about him just flew out the door.</p><p>He shook his head, taking a shuddering breath. "No, it will cause trouble for me. I need you to stitch me up."</p><p>"I'm sorry, you're going to have to repeat that," Mel said after the words processed. "Because it sounds like you said you need me to stitch you up."</p><p>"That's correct. You did say you know a bit about first aid," he replied, meeting her gaze.</p><p>"No way," she said, fear abating as she realized he was largely fine, if he was talking this coherently. "It's one thing to do it on my brother because he was an idiot and we didn't have the money to deal with it. It's another to do it on you"</p><p>"Just my back. The front I can do."</p><p>Mel stared at him. "I just literally said no, Tim."</p><p>He opened his mouth to respond, but another sharp inhale made him pause. Mel felt sympathetic pain as a flinch crossed his face again. "Could I get some pain meds from you?" he asked. "I don't have anything weak enough to be safe enough to drive home on."</p><p>Mel's mouth hung open, words lost as she tried to wrap her head around the statement. "We're going to come back around to what you just said," Mel said, fighting through her disbelief, "because you are not driving home after you've been...what? Shot? Stabbed?"</p><p>"Stabbed," Tim supplied.</p><p>"Just...stay there. I don't want to have to clean more places than necessary."</p><p>"I can come to the bathroom," he said, placing a bloody hand against the wall.</p><p>"No, don't--" He was upright before Melanie could stop him.</p><p>Sighing heavily, she said, "This way." Looping his arm around her shoulders, she helped him to the bathroom, where she directed him to sit on the edge of the tub. She was surprised at how steady he was even with how much pain he must have been in.</p><p>"We have to get that off," she said, glancing at his suit and forcing her voice even. Blasted adrenaline, waning at the wrong time and leaving her shaky. Reaching for scissors, she found her hand shaking too. She clenched it shut and took a deep breath.</p><p>"Here." She turned at a zipper sound, and found him taking the top half off.</p><p>"That works too," she muttered, eyes taking in details. Most notably, after the blood smearing his side and the wound it came from, was the gnarled scar across his abdomen, and a variety of other smaller and less...ostentatious scar tissue.</p><p>Kneeling beside the tub, she cleaned the wounds. One on the front and a matching one offset closer to his spine on the back, but not as deep.</p><p>"You got really lucky," she breathed, releasing the air she'd been holding unknowingly.</p><p>"I know." And it sounded like he did. They were silent until he flinched at her touch.</p><p>"Sorry," she muttered.</p><p>"Can I still get those pain meds?" he asked nonchalantly.</p><p>"Good grief Tim! Take whatever you have if it's stronger!" She felt bad forgetting, but, seriously, she was totally unsettled. It was a weird night, and her brain wasn't firing on all cylinders to begin with after the hectic week at school.</p><p>"I only have morphine, and these don't warrant morphine."</p><p>She stared at him. "Tim, most people would consider two stab wounds as plenty of reason to use morphine."</p><p>"These don't," he insisted. Mel was about to contradict him again when her eyes caught the mass of gnarled tissue. Snapping her jaw shut, she figured that, to him, it probably didn't warrant it.</p><p>She stood and retrieved a bottle of acetaminaphin. Tossing it at him, she said, "I have no idea if you have a concussion, so start with that, and I'll get you an NSAID if you can have it."</p><p>He popped the lid off the bottle. "Looks like your studying has done some good."</p><p>"Tim, I appreciate the attempt at humor, but, currently, I have just discovered that one of my friends is a vigilante because he broke into my seventh story apartment needing me to stitch closed two stab wounds. Forgive me if the humor falls flat."</p><p>"Fair," he replied quietly. Then, "I'm sorry. And thank you."</p><p>"Thank me after I'm done suturing this without anesthetic," she muttered. Glancing at his face, she asked, "Ready?"</p><p>He took a breath and closed his eyes. "Yep."</p><p>Mel tried to detach herself, but his flinching still hurt her.</p><p>Thirty stitches later, front and back, she stood and cleaned up. Tim began putting the suit back on.</p><p>"Nope, don't put that thing back on. I have some sweatpants and t-shirts that will fit you and are clean."</p><p>"Thanks," he said, standing. "Can I help, or...?"</p><p>"No, just sit back down," she ordered. He sat on the tub again.</p><p>Finishing quickly, even with her trembling hands, she moved to her room and pulled out a large shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants. Returning to the bathroom, she laid them on the counter.</p><p>"Change. Then come get me." She didn't wait for a response. Fleeing, she went back to her room and shut the door. Hard. Putting her head in her hands, she breathed deeply.</p><p>Tim, her friend, had been stabbed. He was a vigilante. He had her stitch him up. In her apartment.</p><p>She was still trying to get her breathing under control when he came in. Looking at him, she stared at the mug in his hand.</p><p>"Make yourself at home," she said curtly.</p><p>He glanced at the mug, and held it out. "It's for you. I thought...well, you seem pretty shaken."</p><p>"Freaking straight!" she shouted, hands in the air. "You just bombed me with way too much information in the absolute worst possible way. Of course I'm shaken! Not to mention, I really don't fancy suturing wounds on my friend."</p><p>"They weren't lethal at all," Tim said.</p><p>Mel glared at him. "Not helping." Her eyes strayed to his torso. "Though it looks like you have some idea of what could be lethal." Her eyes flicked back to his face. "You've been doing this a while."</p><p>He nodded. "I have."</p><p>Mel shook her head, finding herself extremely tired."It...I..." She sighed, knowing she was far too worked up to hold a conversation. Taking the mug from Tim, she said, "Thank you for this, that was thoughtful. Now go out to the couch and sleep. You had better be here tomorrow when I get up, because we aren't done with this discussion."</p><p>**</p><p>As it turns out, Tim wasn't in the apartment the next morning. Mel sighed, not having expected anything less.</p><p>She was pleasantly surprised to find her wall cleaned, and a note on her kitchen counter.</p><p>"Mel,</p><p>Thank you for your help. And sorry again for the trouble. I'll buy you coffee the entire next semester to make up for it, if you want. Or something like that. Let me know.</p><p>-Tim</p><p>"At least I get coffee out of this," Melanie muttered, tossing the note in the garbage. "Because I suspect that wasn't the last time this is going to happen."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Fool</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next time Mel saw Tim, it was at the coffee shop at 4 a.m. Normally she was the last one into the shop--she usually got up early and went, rather than staying late. So, when the bell rang announcing someone entered, her head snapped up, fully expecting an armed robber to threaten the barista.</p>
<p>Instead, Tim came walking in. Well, walking was a stretch of a word. Moreso he shuffled in a tired daze. Mel's eyes tracked him all the way to where he sat across from her, plunking himself down and staring at the table, silent.</p>
<p>"Hi to you too. I'm fine, just reading a fascinating article about how different organic teas have properties to clear out toxins in the body. It complexes with excess heavy metals and sulfates. It's an instant poison antidote you can buy at any grocery store. How's the night life going? I hope after your crazy night just three days ago, you're getting some sleep." His face remained blank as she waited for a response, a frown growing on her face and tension gathering in her shoulders.</p>
<p>"Uh, Tim. <em>Tim</em>." Snapping her fingers in his face, she relaxed when he started and looked at her.</p>
<p>"Hm? Oh, sorry. A lot on my mind." Tipping his head, he asked, "Can I get you some coffee?"</p>
<p>"No, thanks," she said, picking up her cup and swirling it. "Though I will be cashing in on your offer later to its fullest extent." She frowned darkly at him. "You look like you could use a cup for yourself."</p>
<p>"Probably." He stared over her shoulder, leaning back heavily in the chair. Mel let him sit a moment, eyes flicking over him before her worry came back full force.</p>
<p>"Tim, what's wrong? You're awfully distracted. Are your injuries bothering you?"</p>
<p>"An uptick in random violence," he stated matter-of-factly. "At least, a continuation of it." He sighed, shaking his head. "Our estimates are that it has jumped almost 300 percent," he continued quietly. Mel stared at him, shocked. The last estimate she'd heard was that rates had just under doubled. </p>
<p>Tim finally met her eyes. "Just...be careful? Ok? Because it has been in some weird areas, ones that it shouldn't be happening in."</p>
<p>Snorting softly, she said, "It's Gotham. 'Shouldn't be happening' is a funny way of saying that."</p>
<p>He shook his head. "There are places that had been reasonably safe, and now they aren't." His heavy voice made her take his warning seriously. "Be careful. If you need, I don't know, someone to walk you home or something, just call."</p>
<p>"I...ok, thanks." She swallowed her argument about being able to take care of herself, not wanting to offend him. "So, about home...how did you know where I live?"</p>
<p>He gave her a funny look. "Um, well...don't be weirded out or anything, but I kind of...look up anyone who I get to know beyond an initial meeting?"</p>
<p>Mel stared at him. "You stalked me," she said flatly.</p>
<p>"No, not really," Tim replied, looking more tired by the moment.</p>
<p>"You stalked me," Mel asserted again, finality in her voice. "And is that how you knew my roommates wouldn't be home?"</p>
<p>That earned her a startled jolt from him. "You have roommates?"</p>
<p>She nearly snorted with a scoff. "Uh, yeah. Space to live in isn't exactly free."</p>
<p>His mouth formed a small "oh." "I didn't find that when I looked you up."</p>
<p>This time Melanie did snort. "I guess that's what I get for being the only person signed on the lease." </p>
<p>Tim didn't respond to that. Instead he asked, "So where does 'Melanie' come from?"</p>
<p>She raised an eyebrow at him. "It's just a name my dad called me."</p>
<p>"It's not even part of your legal name."</p>
<p>Shrugging, Melanie said, "I was named after my mother, hence the first name 'Nora.' I have a love-hate relationship with her, heavy on the hate, so that's really not what I want to be called, and 'Betsy' just reminds me of the old grandmas I help at the grocery store. So, yeah, I go by Melanie." She made a face at him. "That's just weird that you know my full name and didn't even ask me."</p>
<p>He looked slightly sheepish. "Sorry. Just precautions."</p>
<p>She shrugged, "Probably warranted in your line of work. Speaking of work, what are you up to tonight? Or this morning, I suppose."</p>
<p>Sighing, he said, "Nothing that I should be."</p>
<p>"How mysterious," Mel snarked at him.</p>
<p>"I mean nothing productive that should be getting done," he amended.</p>
<p>"And you came here to be productive?"</p>
<p>"Something like that." He glanced at her coffee, then to the counter again. "I would really like a coffee," he said in a way that was clear his brain wasn't firing on all cylinders.</p>
<p>Mel watched for a solid minute and a half of him staring at the board before saying, "Tim, you need sleep. Why don't you go home?"</p>
<p>"Because I don't want to," he said simply. She waited, thinking he would add onto what he'd said, but, once again, he remained silent.</p>
<p>"Don't want to?" Mel led, raising an eyebrow and shifting in her seat to keep his eye.</p>
<p>"Nope. One of my siblings is in a <em>really</em> bad mood. And he has a tendency to take it out on me when that happens."</p>
<p>"Well that's just rude," she commented.</p>
<p>"I wish that's all it was," Tim muttered.</p>
<p>That got her attention. "What? Why?" Her eyes involuntarily flicked toward his torso. Remembering his plethora of scars, she wondered if all those came before or after he began vigilante work. Because if he had a sibling who was doing something worse than just being in a bad mood...</p>
<p>"He can be downright nasty," Tim replied easily. He continued staring at the menu.</p>
<p>Mel was about to make an offer to him when the barista came over. With a shy smile, she introduced herself.</p>
<p>"It's a pleasure to have you here," she said, holding her hand out. Tim smiled tiredly and shook it.</p>
<p>"If you want anything, just let me know. I'd be happy to make it, even if it's on the secret menu." She smiled shyly again.</p>
<p>"Thanks, I'll let you know." The barista gave a small laugh and returned to her counter. Mel raised an eyebrow at Tim.</p>
<p>"Why do you always seem to attract attention whenever you're here?"</p>
<p>He shrugged. "Because people are weird. Or they just like my hair. Can't really tell." He added the last part with a slight mischievous grin.</p>
<p>Rolling her eyes, Mel ignored the comment even as Tim returned to looking at the menu. She watched him for another minute before she finally took pity on him and said, "You know what, come back to my place and sleep on the couch. I'll even make you coffee after you wake up."</p>
<p>He looked at her in surprise. "Really? You're offering for me to invade your home again?"</p>
<p>"Hah, hardly. Last time you invaded, because you were uninvited. I'm offering an invitation."</p>
<p>After a moment's pause, he said, "Ok. Thanks."</p>
<p>Packing up her work, she said, "You're welcome anytime, just knock. Don't go through the window, especially if my roommates are home." He looked appropriately chastised, and gave her a small sound of acknowledgment as they left the shop and got into Melanie's car.</p>
<p>Mel started the engine and pulled out, expecting Tim to fall asleep now that he had the chance. They drove for a bit in silence, and it became clear he was going to do nothing of the sort. "What do you normally do when you're injured?" Mel finally asked. "I mean, it's clear you have something in place."</p>
<p>"I have quite a few options normally," he said. She waited for him to elaborate, but didn't get anything.</p>
<p>"Ok then, well, glad I could be of service," she said simply. "But you do realize that the sister of a backstreet brawler should be the absolute <em>last</em> person on your list of people to come to when you're hurt, right?"</p>
<p>"Hm," he hummed. Mel was content to let it suffice as an answer.</p>
<p>Pulling into her parking spot, they got out and rode the elevator in silence.</p>
<p>"There, knock yourself out. Or should I say, conk out. Please don't actually knock yourself out," Mel said, removing her keys and nodding to the couch. </p>
<p>Tim literally fell onto the couch. Mel hadn't even removed her shoes before his heavy breathing turned into soft snoring.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Tim, as it turned out, came over fairly regularly, though not at regular hours. In fact, most of the time it was in the range of about three to six a.m. Which was fine, because, save for the days he got there at three, she was always up. She loved early morning and abhorred late evening. People called her crazy, and told her that would change with college, but, four years in, she still hadn't changed.</p>
<p>As it turned out, Tim came over just as often to sleep as to work on his laptop, talk, drink coffee, or get stitched up. And, fool that she was, she never told him no. They fell into a comfortable routine of easy friendship and friendly concern for each other's welfare as the days turned into weeks into a couple months.</p>
<p>It was one of the days he came over to work on his laptop that she got the offer that, had she known exactly what it would lead to, she probably would have declined.</p>
<p>"Mel, you're welcome to come over to my place too, if you want," he said out of the blue, as she was seated opposite of him, each working on their computers. "I've been coming over here for months. It seems about time I returned the hospitality."</p>
<p>And, underscoring the fact she was a fool, she said:</p>
<p>"That'd be cool. I'd like to see your place."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not entirely pleased with how this chapter turned out, but I decided to keep moving forward rather than getting stuck on it. Any comments are appreciated, and I hope to have the next part up by Monday!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Red Hood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Melanie had a pretty good instinct for when something wasn't just exactly right, or when she was missing some piece of a puzzle.</p><p>And right now, that instinct was screaming at her at full volume.</p><p>She had decided today was as good a day as any to go to Tim's place, and had also asked if he would help her study again. Being the nice friend he was, he had agreed to spend some time helping her. She'd left her apartment nearly half an hour ago, making her way out of the main city as her phone led her toward the address he'd given her. But it was leading her past golf courses, manicured lawns, and high end houses. </p><p>Hence the screaming. Because this was blatantly weird.</p><p>While she and Tim hung out in one of the nicer parts of Gotham, she didn't think any person living in this part of the world would have any business spending their free time in places like where she and Tim did.</p><p>She briefly pulled over and double checked the address in the navigation against that which Tim had sent. They matched, so she continued for another few minutes before the phone finally announced she had arrived at her destination.</p><p>Melanie slowed to a stop, certain she had the wrong place.</p><p>She was at the gates to a mansion. And not just any mansion, but the <em>Wayne Manor</em>.</p><p>"Tim, I didn't take you for a prankster, but apparently I was wrong," she muttered, reaching for her cell phone. Tapping it a few times, she held it to her ear as it rang.</p><p>"Hello?"</p><p>"Tim, I'm pleasantly and not so pleasantly surprised. I didn't think you were the type to go for pranks."</p><p>Her friend's voice clearly conveyed his confusion. "What?"</p><p>"The address you gave me. It's Wayne Manor."</p><p>There was a punctuated pause on the other end of the line. "Yeah?"</p><p>"Yeah," Mel replied firmly, looking at the wrought iron gates. "Now, what is the actual address that I'm meeting you at?"</p><p>"The one I gave you," he said slowly.</p><p>Mel sighed. "While it may be hilarious to you to watch me get arrested for trespassing on a billionaire's private estate, I don't have the guts for it. Please, just tell me the address."</p><p>The other side of the line was silent again, and Mel was about to ask if he was still there when there were other muted voices. Finally, there was a sigh.</p><p>"I'll come get you. Just stay put."</p><p>"You'll come...what in the world, Tim? How long will that take?"</p><p>"About two minutes, if my brothers will let me out of the room." The last part was a growl, and some laughing made its way over the line.</p><p>"Uh, ok..." Mel fell silent, listening to the muffled voices on the other end. She kept glancing about, wondering when someone would appear and ask her what she was doing in her old beat up coupe.</p><p>"So, just a heads up," Tim said, finally breaking the tension that was mounting in Mel. "My brothers are a bit crazy. I'm the sanest of all of them."</p><p>"Uh, ok. How many do you have?" Crazy brothers she could handle. She did, after all, have plenty of brothers of her own.</p><p>"That...well, the easy answer is three."</p><p>"Got it. Are they all here?"</p><p>The slam of a car door joined his, "Yep."</p><p>"Great. See you in a minute." She hung up, timing the minute. The second it was over, she was turning around and heading back into the city. </p><p>At 54 seconds, she spotted a car coming down the paved drive. As it neared, her disbelief grew.</p><p>"No way," she muttered, staring at it until it came to a stop at the gates. A long-haired young man sat in the seat.</p><p>She opened the door of her own car and stepped out. Tim did the same, laying his arm on the top of the Corvette and looking for all the world like they had just run into each other on some back country road and stopped for a chat.</p><p>"Believe me now?" he asked with a smirk.</p><p>"Tim...what's your last name?" Mel asked dumbly, realizing that her instinct was correct and this was probably the piece of information she was missing. </p><p>"Drake-Wayne," he replied easily.</p><p>"So you're..."</p><p>"Yep. Bruce is my dad."</p><p>"Uh, ok. I don't even know what to say to that. Except that you should have told me sooner," she stated numbly, staring at the yellow car he drove up in.</p><p>"You live under a rock Mel," Tim commented with a smirk. </p><p>"Look, just because I don't spend my time following popular culture and different media does <em>not</em> mean I live under a rock." The words would have had more bite in them except that she was still shaken by the revelation. </p><p>Tim just shook his head, amused. "Right. Well, come on in." He got back into the car and flipped it around as the gate opened.</p><p>Mel glanced at her own dark green coupe that had so many scrapes and dents it probably could get mistaken for a crushed pop can, then down at her wornout sweatshirt and tennis shoes.</p><p>"Should have told me sooner," she muttered again, climbing into the car and driving slowly along the paved drive behind Tim.</p><p>**</p><p>After her initial shock of Tim being the son of a billionaire, Mel's next shock followed hard on its heels.</p><p>Specifically, that Tim's three brothers were just as crazy as he said they were.</p><p>Well, maybe not crazy. But they certainly were odd, though not in a bad way.</p><p>His younger brother, Damian, had coldly greeted her, and managed to give her a backhanded compliment relating to her intelligence (from which she also gathered that Tim was significantly smarter than he let on). Tim's next oldest brother, Jason, had a striking shock of white hair over his forehead, which she assumed was some sort of fashion statement, but didn't feel like asking about. He gave off the air of being a jock, a big guy who would use his bulk to his advantage. Not to mention, he was assinine and petty. And the oldest brother...he practically vibrated he had so much energy.</p><p>"He used to be in the circus," Tim commented offhandedly when he caught Mel watching with wide eyes as Dick flipped of an armchair.</p><p>"Right..." she said slowly, unsure of the truth of it but leaning toward it being accurate.</p><p>"So, what did you want to study today?" Tim asked, sitting at a table in the kitchen.</p><p>"More pharmacology," Mel replied, sitting across from him.</p><p>"Timmy! It's Saturday. Are you two seriously going to study on Saturday? And Saturday morning, no less?" Mel looked up at Dick, who smiled brightly at them. "From what you've told us about Mel, once you two get going you won't stop until the coffee runs out."</p><p>Melanie looked to Tim. "You've told them about me?" she asked flatly, cringing internally.</p><p>"Yeah? Just--"</p><p>"No, he hasn't," Dick interrupted. "He mentioned that you were coming over today, and that you had been studying together, but, other than that, he hasn't said <em>a word</em>. C'mon, Tim, I want to get to know your friend!" His grin brightened. "Plus, it's movie marathon day. And I finally convinced Damian to watch all the Star Trek movies."</p><p>The hesitation at that statement on Tim's part was painful for Mel to watch. "Did you really?" he asked.</p><p>"Yep." Melanie watched Dick's expectant face, quickly gathering that he was the Labrador retriever of the family.</p><p>Tim hesitated again, then said, "I promised Mel. After we're done, I'll join." He looked to her. "Unless you want to? Fair warning, these days can be totally crazy."</p><p>Mel looked at her pharmacology notes, then slammed the notebook shut. "I can handle crazy, but I might just go crazy doing this. Let's watch for a bit."</p><p>The grin she received from Dick should have told her that was a choice that would have interesting consequences.</p><p>**</p><p>"That is completely idiotic. Why would you put a new pilot at the helm of the flagship?"</p><p>Mel glanced at Damian, who was seated next to Dick on the floor to her left. She, Tim, and Jason all sat on a couch, sharing a bowl of Brazil nuts. Which Mel had to admit, was an odd choice of movie snack. But Jason had insisted, and she had no reason to say no, and he pushed his brothers into it, so that's what it was. She chocked it up to an idiosyncrasy of them being billionaires.</p><p>"Just watch the movie," Tim replied mechanically, though Mel caught the way he tensed at Damian's comment. Which was the seventh or eighth of its kind in half an hour.</p><p>"For once, I agree with Timmy. Just watch the movie, brat," Jason said, eyes glued on the screen, hand reaching for some nuts.</p><p>"I am, Todd. I do not understand why the story must involve completely unrealistic aspects to it."</p><p>"Damian, just watch the movie," Tim said again.</p><p>The boy fell silent, and they continued watching in peace for a few minutes. Jason placed the bowl on the table in front of them, settling back heavily again.</p><p>Mel jumped as a cat appeared on the table. And knocked the entire bowl onto the ground.</p><p>"Now I don't suppose you had a good reason to do that?" Jason growled as he and Tim reached for the spilled contents. "Brat, go get the vacuum and clean up after your cat."</p><p>"Tt." Damian got up and left the room.</p><p>"Dick, pause it, would you?" Tim asked, bent over the edge of the couch.</p><p>Something stirred in Mel's brain, almost a deja vu. She watched Jason, and noticed a long scar along the back of his fingers. She stared at it.</p><p>"Jason, have we met before?" she asked, watching him closer.</p><p>He glanced at her and shook his head. "Think I'd remember one of Tim's friends, considering he doesn't have any."</p><p>Tim glowered at his brother. "Jerk," he muttered, grabbing a nut and throwing it at Jason's face. Jason just caught it in his mouth and ate it.</p><p>"Seriously, you ate that? After it was on the floor?" Tim asked, not sounding like he was disgusted but mostly wanted something to gripe about.</p><p>"You've literally stood in mudpits, kid, and you're asking if I just ate something off a floor that <em>Alfred</em> cleans?"</p><p>"Habit. I don't have a spleen, remember?" Tim muttered, crossing his arms and sitting back.</p><p>Mel stared at him. "You don't have a spleen?"</p><p>Tim glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Long story."</p><p>She shook his head. "You really have a way of being tight-lipped, don't you? But that story can wait." She turned back to Jason. "I literally am having a moment of deja vu or something, because the way you said that to the cat, and your hand...I know I know you from somewhere."</p><p>"Tt, don't try too hard trying to place Todd. It's too easy to confuse him with the excessive number of imbeciles in the world," Damian said, returning with the vacuum.</p><p>Mel wasn't sure what that meant, so let it slide as the kid cleaned up the rest of the mess.</p><p>"Satisfied, Todd?"</p><p>"For Alfred's sake, yes. Press play, Dickface."</p><p>They resumed the movie, but Mel's brain couldn't shake the feeling that she knew Jason from something. She ran the likeliest places through her brain--school, grocery store, coffee shop--and knew none of them could be right. She would remember his hair, if nothing else. But that wasn't really what was familiar. His words, and his fingers.</p><p>Just as the puzzle dimmed to the background of her attention, the switch flipped.</p><p>"F..." She leaned forward, lightheaded, planting her arms on her knees, head hanging between her legs. Fighting for breath, the hand on her back barely registered.</p><p>"Mel, you ok?" Tim's voice was tinny in her ears.</p><p>Head spinning, she waved him away. "I'm fine, just lightheaded," she replied honestly, surprised that she didn't choke on the words.</p><p>"You don't look very good," Dick commented.</p><p>"Just need some water," she breathed, standing, then falling onto the couch again. Levering herself up, she took a deep breath and left the room, trying to make for the kitchen.</p><p>"Mel, you look like you're about to pass out." Tim's voice sounded behind her, but she doggedly moved toward the kitchen.</p><p>"Because I am," she said flatly. "I need water, and that will help."</p><p>"Ok." Tim grabbed her arm, and, normally, she would protest at the gesture. But, considering she legitimately was about to pass out, she let it slide.</p><p>Tim only let go when she was sitting on a stool in the kitchen. Mel stared at the countertop in front of her, eyes tracing the swirling dark streaks of the marble as her mind tried to wrap itself around the third shock of the day.</p><p>The clunk of a glass being set in front of her made her start. She mechanically reached for it, absently drinking the full thing before clunking it down again. Still she stared at the counter.</p><p>"Mel? Do you need a doctor?" Tim asked, voice soft and concerned.</p><p>Her eyes snapped up, and guilt briefly broke through her shock.</p><p>"No, no, not at all," she said, getting a grip on herself. "I just..." She glanced about, then leaned toward Tim. "Your brother, he...he's Red Hood, isn't he?"</p><p>Tim stared at her, silent. The silence extended until she thought he would tell her she really did need to see a doctor to check her head. Looking at her glass, she rolled it about.</p><p>"I mean, look, I know you're Red Robin, right? So it's not that big of a stretch..." She fell silent, glancing up at him again. His face was impossible to read.</p><p>"Stay right there," he said, turning from the room. Mel opened her mouth, then closed it, unsure of whether she should obey or just leave and never see Tim again.</p><p>"Stupid stupid stupid," she muttered, dropping her forehead into her hands.</p><p>Two sets of footsteps met her ears, then they halted. Mel didn't lift her head. She should have left her big mouth alone.</p><p>"Jay, Mel wants to know if you're the Red Hood."</p><p>Melanie moaned. "Tim, you don't have to make fun of my stupidi--"</p><p>"Shiitake mushrooms, woman, you related to Tim? Making conclusions like that will give him a run for his money."</p><p>The words washed over Mel, then her brain processed them. Lifting her head slowly, she met Jason's surprised look. "Excuse me?"</p><p>He spread his arms dramatically. "I am he."</p><p>"You...what? You are?" Mel was glad she was already sitting, because her head got light fast.</p><p>"Ok," Jason said slowly. "That removed all the color whatsoever from your face. How about no more big revelations for the day?"</p><p>Tim glanced at Jason, then said, "Mel, would you like me to take you home, or would you like to stay?"</p><p>"Home. Now. Please," she said. </p><p>"Right. Jason, you're coming with us so I can get back," Tim said.</p><p>"What? C'mon, Timmers. I already drove all the way here today."</p><p>"Poor you. You can drive the Corvette."</p><p>Their bickering washed over Mel as she followed them down the hall in a daze.</p><p>Tim was Red Robin. His brother was Red Hood.</p><p>And she accidentally figured that out.</p><p>Whoops.</p><p>Jason was climbing into the Corvette Tim had retrieved her in when Mel said, "Thanks, Jason. I don't know that I ever said it that night."</p><p>The man froze, halfway in the car, hand ready to close the door. "What?" he asked, eyes fixed on her.</p><p>"Thank you. For saving my life. I doubt you remember it--I'm sure you do that sort of thing a lot. But thank you."</p><p>"Yeah, sure," he said after a moment. He closed the door.</p><p>Mel climbed into the passenger seat of her car, handing Tim her keys. "And thank <em>you</em> for not being a jerk about how I'm reacting. I...I don't know why it's hitting me this hard."</p><p>"Well, if it weren't, I would be a bit concerned, to be honest," Tim replied, starting the engine. "After all, it's not every day you meet someone as asinine as Jason and learn they saved your life."</p><p>Mel laughed at that, having to admit its truth.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always thanks for reading and I love to hear your feedback!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Eight Months</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I'm terrible at tagging and wanted to give a heads up that there are non-consensual medical practices referenced in this chapter, and will be again focused on in upcoming chapters. If anyone can tell me whether this falls under the "Rape/noncon" archive warning so I can change it, that would be appreciated! Thanks!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Justin Ellis sat in his worn-out chair. Really, it wasn't his because this place wasn't his, it was just one of the rat-holes that was forgotten by everyone except the underbelly of Gotham. And even those people had little use for it. Especially after he paid them all to clear out.</p><p>So in a way, that made it his. He claimed it when no one else would, and enforced that claim.</p><p>If only all of life worked that easily.</p><p>"Sir, I have the latest analysis."</p><p>His eyes flicked up from where they had been fixed, on a frayed thread of the chair. It was an uncanny representation of what his life had gone to.</p><p>Frayed. With little hope for repair. Except for one desperate, hare-brained idea that the logical side of him couldn't fathom why he'd even set it into motion. But his less logical side drove him currently. And it said this was the last possible course of action, if he didn't want to roll over and let this happen to him.</p><p>And he was never one for rolling over.</p><p>"Give it here," he said softly to the man in a lab coat standing in front of him. Holding out his hand, he accepted the stack of papers. Eyes scanning it, his jaw clenched. His gaze slowly lifted to the man and pinned him.</p><p>"This is all a failure," he said coldly, quietly.</p><p>The man before him swallowed visibly. "In essence, yes sir, it is. However, it does suggest some promising adjustments to make the formula more effective--"</p><p>Justin's hand slammed onto the desk, the harsh movement at odds with how still the rest of him remained, and how low his voice was. "I don't want a more effective formula, Mister White. I want a cure."</p><p>The man nodded. "Of course sir, of course. It's just that if we don't have an effective formula for testing subjects, we won't have reliable samples to create the cure."</p><p>Taking a deep breath, Ellis got a handle on his anger. "You're correct," he said after a moment. He didn't comment on the man's surprise as he said, "And you're doing good work. Is there anything that you need to progress faster?"</p><p>If the scientist was surprised before, he was absolutely floored now, and his mouth worked in vain for a few seconds. "I...I suppose more subjects to test our formula on and to create the cure from."</p><p>Ellis nodded. "You'll have it. Send Thatcher to me."</p><p>Nodding, the scientist beat a hasty retreat.</p><p>Ellis sat back heavily in his chair, wishing he could do more, wishing it was all up to him instead of a group of less than moral scientists who were intrigued by his plan.</p><p>The wishing invited two words into his head, taunting and goading him.</p><p>
  <em>Eight months.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Family Business</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Tim and Jason told her that the rest of the family was involved in the vigilante business, she wasn't surprised. It was really just a matter of doing a bit of Google work and making a couple logic steps to figure it out.</p><p>So, when they had her over to the manor and had lunch with her and told her, she just nodded and said, "Yep, that's pretty obvious now that I know about you two."</p><p>They hadn't seemed startled by that statement.</p><p>"If I had only known one of you, it would have made the conclusion a bit more tenuous. But both," she shook her head. "No doubt about it."</p><p>"Good to know," Tim muttered, before promptly getting lost in thought for nearly twenty minutes as Mel and Jason discussed a variety of topics ranging from school, to Tim's addiction to coffee, to the weather, and, finally, back to the topic of vigilante business.</p><p>"You do realize that if you ever tell, there will be a world of trouble for you?" Jason commented.</p><p>"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Mel asked, meeting his stony gaze resolutely. It seemed this family had a habit of making statements that bordered on threats.</p><p>"Hah, hardly. You would know if I'm threatening you," he commented before taking a long drink from his glass. His tone left Mel very little doubt about the truth of the statement.</p><p>"No," Jason finally said, putting his glass down. "It is a warning though. The people who are curious about who we are, that's one thing. The media storm would be a nightmare. But the rest of the people, those who are obsessive, those who have a vested interest in seeing that we are compromised and or neutralized." He shook his head. "No, those are the people who will kill you slowly and painfully and leave you in the sewers. If they are feeling merciful."</p><p>Mel's stunned silence lasted the span of three heartbeats before Tim stirred. He looked to Mel, then Jason and said, "Jay, you don't need to scare her. She gets it. She got it before she knew about you, or the rest of all of you." Tim looked back to her. "Though, he isn't exaggerating."</p><p>"Great, got the picture," she mumbled, rolling her cup around. "Take this secret to my grave. If I don't want to die a brutal death and have my body left where no one will find it."</p><p>Both men looked at her strangely. "Let's hope not quite literally," Jason said. "Because that is a very real possibility, that you'll be in your grave sooner rather than later, running with us."</p><p>"If you want out, Mel, it's not a bad idea to do it now. And we won't hold it against you," Tim added.</p><p>She looked between them. "Are you...trying to chase me away?"</p><p>"Hardly," Jason replied. "We just want you to know that being involved with us in any way, shape, or form is liable to get you killed in an awful, bloody, painful way significantly before your prime."</p><p>"Way to make it more morbid than necessary," Tim muttered.</p><p>"Uh huh," Mel said, ignoring Tim. "And is that a proven fact or is it you being overly cautious?"</p><p>Jason frowned. "Proven fact. Ever wondered how I got this white bit of hair?"</p><p>Tim glanced sharply at Jason, but was silent. Mel just looked at the older man warily.</p><p>"I always assumed it was some sort of fashion statement."</p><p>"Right," Jason said slowly. "And you live under a rock, so you probably don't remember several years back when I was 'presumed dead' then was 'found' alive?"</p><p>"Dude, I'm not from Gotham. Anything that happened that long ago was way before my time."</p><p>"But you <em>do</em> live under a rock," Tim commented.</p><p>"Hey, being focused on school does <em>not </em>mean I live under a rock," Mel said defensively, leaning back and crossing her arms. "It just means I spend my time on <em>worthwhile</em> things rather than following the trash media that inflates things beyond what they need to be." She glared at Tim, daring him to contradict her.</p><p>Jason waved his hand in the air, clearly irritated. "Whatever, that doesn't matter. Tim's just jealous because you'll actually have a college degree and he won't." Tim's sputtering at that statement didn't slow Jason's speed. "The point is, the media didn't overplay that one. I wasn't presumed dead, I <em>was</em> dead. And this--" he twirled his finger in the white lock-- "is a little memento from that."</p><p>Blinking, Mel stared at the man sitting across the table from her. A man who had bandaged her torso and leg, eaten with her, laughed with her and at her. A man who was very much alive.</p><p>"You died on the table?" she asked, disbelief at what he was implying nearly stealing her voice.</p><p>"There was no surgery," Jason said, a bit of a snarl edging his voice making Mel wince. "'Presumed dead' remember? For quite a long time." He settled back in his chair, watching her closely for several silent seconds. Finally, he said, "This isn't a game, Mel. People die doing what we do. People die who have little to do with us. But it is all the more likely if you are doing it with us."</p><p>"But you're alive," Mel said, wanting to argue the point. Because it seemed impossible that this man would be dead for...more than just a minute, more than the time that he could reasonably be resuscitated, and yet be alive.</p><p>Jason frowned, and his features turned to stone. "And don't ask how," he said, voice now harsh. "Suffice it to say, I am alive. Suffice it also to say, you've been warned. Make your decision soon about whether you want a part in this or not, because, if you wait too long, the decision will be made for you. And you might not like what it is." Standing, he threw his napkin at Tim and stalked away, entering the manor by the door connected to the kitchen.</p><p>Mel stared after him, head spinning both from the information unloaded on her and the abrupt change in Jason's demeanor. While she knew he could be touchy, it usually wasn't the flip of a switch. There was lead up to it.</p><p>Though, if what he said were true, then there was a valid reason to be so touchy.</p><p>Finally, she turned her attention to Tim. He was watching her closely.</p><p>"Is he crazy?" she finally asked. Because, really, that was the most logical explanation.</p><p>Tim's face creased with pain. "I wish he were," he said softly. "It would have saved all of us a lot of grief and heartache."</p><p>"But...he...he's <em>alive</em> Tim. People don't just...they don't..." She shook her head at him, unable to fathom what she was being told.</p><p>"He is. But some quirk of...I don't know what you would call the Pit. But every word he said..." Tim shook his head. "Please do make your decision quickly. Because, like Jason said, it may be made for you whether you like it or not."</p><p>Tim gathered his things and left as well, leaving Mel sitting for a long time at the table, considering all the information she'd received. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she figured they wouldn't make something like this up, or stretch whatever truth there was to make such a crazy story. A quote from Mark Twain ran around her head--"Truth is stranger than fiction, because fiction is obliged to make sense."</p><p>And, in this case, she was forced to agree with that statement.</p><p>Finally rousing herself from the table, she packed her own things in, wondering how she could do something so ordinary when her world just got infinitely more strange.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>